The Buns of Jeff Sonnett
by Jellico
Summary: Series finale WHN. Jeff tries to capture two outlaws alone and quickly gets in over his head. Will and James come to his rescue, but the price Jeff pays is hard and humiliating. Can he ever forgive his pa for treating him like a child?


At the base of the stairs in the house he'd been given as the new sheriff of Samson, Kansas, Will Sonnett stared upwards, anxiously awaiting the end. After years of army scouting and then still more years braving the elements in the American Midwest, his face was lined, craggy and usually difficult to read, but not now. Right now, the concern he was feeling for his grandson Jeff was seeping past his hardened exterior, more than evident in the knitting of his brows along with the periodic anger flashing from his pale blue eyes.

At last, it was over. Above Will's head, the sharp and unrelenting sound of paternal leather snapping against a bare, defenseless hide ceased, and with it, the wet, strangled yelps of twenty-year-old Jeff.

Torn between seeing to the boy and staying put since this was mostly a matter between father and son, Will made only one hesitant step up the stairs when Jeff came thundering down and charging past, fully dressed with his green jacket on and his bandana still choking his neck. The exception to his appearance this time was his eyes, which weren't hungover anymore or groggy with sleep. Now they were wide open and brimming, the whites red-rimmed and shiny with tears.

Will tried to speak to him but he was too late. Out the back door, Jeff went until suddenly he stopped and turned around, looking back into the house to focus directly on his grandfather.

There was no mistaking the accusation in his eyes. There was no underestimating the hurt.

Again, Will opened his mouth to say something, anything, that might console the boy he'd raised from infancy, but Jeff didn't give him a chance. After one last tearful look at the only pa he'd really known before they'd finally tracked down his real father, Jeff Sonnett turned and ran.

Where he was going or when he would return, Will didn't know. He could only hope it wasn't far and that his grandson would be back soon. He couldn't lose Jeff like this, not after all they'd experienced together, not after how much closer they'd become these last two years while searching for James.

_The infamous Jim Sonnett_, Will thought angrily,_ in his room right now, probably rethreading his belt with no idee of the pain he's just caused._

Glowering upwards from the base of the stairs, Will considered marching straight up to the second floor to pound on the door James was hiding behind, the need to have it out over what just happened more than strong. Slowly though, it sunk in that things might be best left alone for awhile. Will had a fair idea what Jeff was thinking, but James…well, that was another story. Will barely knew him at all, his own son. After more than a twenty-year separation, they had only just begun to get re-acquainted, so it would be more than presumptuous to think that Will could confront James now over an issue as deeply sensitive as the whipping Jeff had just been given.

Still, there was nothing stopping Will Sonnett from pondering things alone, if he had a mind to, and he did, long and hard.

He thumped an aging fist against the newel post then stepped down and followed Jeff's footsteps as far the kitchen, needing a cup of coffee. The charwoman they'd hired recently to keep house was off this week and for that, Will was grateful, for more than one reason.

He strode over to the stove and set the coffee to brewing, one ear cocked for James upstairs while the other strained to pick up the sound of Jeff's footsteps returning outside. Will knew he should return to the sheriff's office in case the town needed some kind of policing, but he couldn't bring himself to leave home just yet. Folks knew where the Sonnetts lived; if someone needed the law, they could darn well ride this way to find it.

Pacing the kitchen area, Will waited impatiently for his coffee. When it was ready, he helped himself to a cup, then promptly spilled it all down his shirtfront bringing the hot brew to his lips. Scalded, he jumped back and yelped a curse, mopping up as best he could before it became clear he needed a change of clothing. Five minutes later with salve on his chest and a new shirt and vest on his back, he returned to the kitchen and drank his coffee, cup after cup, while his stern gaze remained fixated on the curtained window above the sink. Normally, the morning sun kindled the yard beyond it, the tree leaves in the backyard aglow in shades of emerald and gold, but not today. Today, a major rainstorm was brewing, the sun completed obscured by thick clouds the color of slate, which was a perfect reflection of Will's mood.

Soon enough, thunder cracked overhead and a torrent of rain began to fall.

Will stayed where he was and continued to brood for well over an hour, but finally, he got up and crossed the room to light the oil lamps and prepare a sandwich. Shortly after he sat down again, Jim made his appearance.

The former gunfighter was dressed for a ride out of town despite the rain, his black hat on his head and his long white coat draped around his lean form. His gait was strong as he walked past Will on his way out the back door, but his eyes and the set of his mouth … well, they told a different story, one of anguish and uncertainty and a secret but strengthened resolve to believe in the rightness of what he'd done.

Still seated in his place at the table, Will recognized the Sonnett bullheadedness for precisely what it was. On any other day, he might have allowed his compassion to rise to the surface and dictate his next words to his son, but not now, not when his grandson still wasn't home. Jeff was out there somewheres, hurting and feeling betrayed, and after spending near to two full hours chewing on this fact, Will had something to say about it to the boy's father.

"James, you hold on a minute." he said in his usual no-nonsense way.

At the door with his hand on the knob, Jim stopped but didn't turn around. His tone was flat despite the question that came out of his mouth. "What is it, Pa."

"Turn around 'n face me like a man so's I can tell ya!"

Jim straightened his spine at the implication of those words. After a moment, he turned to face his father, and if Will himself had been a lesser man, he would have understood fear at coming up against the great gunfighter, Jim Sonnett. He wasn't a lesser man, though. He didn't have a cowardly bone in his body. He turned his head more fully to square off against his son, determined to give his boy both barrels.

"James," he said. "I've told others I ain't one to interfere in a father giving his boy a lickin' he feels he deserves, but a few hours ago I wish I had 'cuz you was wrong to give one to Jeff. What he did in that saloon weren't smart, I'll grant ya that – Jeff shouldn't never have tried to corrall them two killers on his own without tellin' us his plans first – but what he did still weren't bad enough to warrant the strap at his age."

"Well, I think it was."

"Well, yer thinkin' ain't right," Will retorted. "cuz you was wrong!"

"Pa—"

"Listen ta me now," Will ordered. "First off, in all them years since Jeff's been with me, I ain't licked him more times than you can count on my gun hand and never with a belt. I never used a switch nor a stick o' kindling nor a whip neither. Just my hand on his bare bottom so's he'd feel it fer a spell and remember not to repeat whatever it was he'd just done wrong. Second off, he ain't fifteen like the last time I took him over my knee. He's goin' on twenty-one unless you done fergot his birthday. In less than a month, that boy'll legally be a man, James. Ya cain't just haul off 'n paddle his behind like he's still a child!"

Jim studied his father in silence for a moment, his steely gaze unwavering. Finally, he said, "When I was a boy, Pa, you treated me like a man, but the month before I ran away and left Ben's Fort, you tanned me and tanned me hard. You didn't use your hand either. You used your belt to do it."

"I know I did," Will admitted. "And it pains me to think on it, but I learned better with Jeff. 'Twas part of that second chance you gave me when you sent me yer boy to raise."

"I reckon you'll tell me now that you regret bending me over when I was seventeen despite what I did to deserve it?"

"I do regret it!" Will snapped. "I've regretted it every day fer the last twenty-somethin' years considerin' what it cost me! It cost me you, m' own son!"

At that, the worst of the tension in Jim's shoulders evaporated. He lowered his gaze a bit to stare at Will's coffee cup while he fingered his gun belt thoughtfully. After awhile, he raised his eyes to meet his father's. "That last time you tanned me, Pa … and I tried arguin' that I was too old … you said age ain't nothin' but a number."

"That's true enough," Will agreed, no longer as angry as he had been. "And Jeff _does_ got a ways to go afore he's truly growed in both our eyes, but that don't mean we can treat him like his nubs ain't dropped yet."

"Pa, he's still a green yearling—"

"Maybe so, James, maybe so but that don't mean he's the baby you sent to me in '52. Fact is, he's far from it, and ya cain't make up fer lost time with him this way. He ain't seventeen like you was the last time I licked you. He's twenty, almost twenty-one, and he's a deputy sheriff now. He's got a man's job to do, and fer that, he's gotta take some risks now and agin, green yearling or not."

"You sayin' you're happy with the one he took on Saturday?"

"No, I ain't saying that, but I'm still a mite proud of him all the same, and deep down, Jeff knows it. He expects you to be proud too. If ya cain't be proud, then at least don't try 'n crush his spirit. He ain't gonna stand fer folks to be treatin' him like a little boy, not even you."

The truth of those words struck home, but Jim fought it. He set his jaw, spoke two words, and then was gone out the back door before his father could reply.

"We'll see."

For over a minute after Jim had left, Will sat where he was, staring at the closed door. Gradually, he turned back to focus on his plate, his appetite long since evaporated for the stone cold food now before him.

"Yep, we'll see," he muttered to himself. "That I reckon we will."

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Late that night, a sulky Jeff returned home, but in the week that followed, it was clear to all and sundry that his relationship with his father had deteriorated. Will, too, might have received a cold shoulder from Jeff except he refused to accept one. The moment his grandson returned home, Will pulled the boy to him and hugged him hard in silence, holding him more than long enough to say everything that needed saying between them.

Between Jeff and Jim, though, was another story. Jim was determined to move on and so he treated his son as if nothing had happened, except in Jeff's mind, something big most definitely _had_ happened. Will watched them both for close to a week, waiting for them to reconcile their differences on their own, but after five days of pure nothing, he'd had enough. It was high time for the younger generations to bury the hatchet now. The two of them had wasted too much time apart to be separated over an incident as forgivable as this, and as the patriarch of their small clan, Will just wasn't going to stand for these uncomfortable silences anymore. Sonnetts don't turn away from each other in his world, not ever.

He entered the kitchen on Friday morning, hoping to catch both his son and his grandson in the same room even if only for a minute, but as usual, it wasn't to be. Jim was gone, no doubt on his way to the sheriff's office, and only Jeff was in the room by the sink, cleaning up.

Will took in the stubborn set to Jeff's shoulders and frowned as he took a seat at the table. He waited for his grandson to speak, and when the boy wouldn't, he broke the silence himself as he tucked his checkered napkin into his shirtfront.

"Well, boy? You aimin' ta button yer lip around yer pa from now on, after nineteen years o' longin' to know him plus two more lookin' fer him all over creation with me by yer side?"

"Maybe." Jeff didn't pause while he scrubbed his plate more vigorously than was necessary. "It's my right if I want to, ain't it?"

"It's yer right," Will conceded, reaching for the plate of bacon. "But I ain't so sure as how that's gonna help you get over what's stickin' in yer craw."

"How can I get over anything?" Jeff bristled, still abusing the crockery. "I can't never forget what he did! He tanned me, Grandpaw, like I was…like I was…"

"Like you was his son and he was yer pa and you needed correction?"

"Dang it, I didn't need any correctin'! I ain't a kid!"

"No, you ain't a kid 'xactly," Will allowed. "But you ain't quite a man neither, son. A deputy getting' drunk on his watch even fer the best of reasons —"

Jeff whirled around to face his grandfather. "All right, so maybe I didn't rightly act the way I should've last week in the saloon, but a fella's gotta be allowed to make some mistakes once in a while without getting humiliated by his pa in public or gettin' a spankin' at home like he was ten years old! If it was still just you and me, Grandpaw, you wouldn't _never_ have done to me what he did!"

Will nodded that this was true. "No, I reckon not, boy, but I've had time to watch you grow and adjust my mind to it. Yer Pa hasn't."

"I don't care," Jeff snapped. He turned towards the sink, threw the wet cloth he was still holding in temper towards it, then glared back at his grandfather. "I ain't a little boy anymore and he'd best start recognizing that fact or else."

Will beckoned a fuming Jeff towards him then frowned when the boy didn't move. Normally, Jeff was deferential towards his elders the way Will had raised him to be, but he was clearly his own man when sufficiently riled. Will certainly wasn't going to hold that against him, but neither was he willing to withstand being ignored. He gave his grandson a harder look, his expression quickly turning into one that brooked no argument.

"Sit down, boy, and I mean right now."

Grudgingly, Jeff came forward and plunked his bottom down at the table in a huff. "I meant what I said," he grumbled. "I ain't still that newborn colt Pa turned his back on all them years ago."

"Yeah, I reckon I know you ain't a baby," Will told him sternly, "But you might as well be one with that trash you just spouted."

"And what the devil does that mean, Grandpaw?"

"Don't sass me, boy! I mean you know darn tootin' well yer pa didn't turn his back on you!" Will snapped. "You know that sure as we're both settin' here. He sent you to live with me, so's you'd be safe and get raised right, never knowing if he'd be killed from one day t' the next. He never once stopped thinkin' of you as his boy so don't _you_ be thinkin' you somehow ain't James Sonnett's son!"

"I ain't his son," Jeff insisted angrily. "Not really. _You_ raised me for twenty years, Grandpaw. He didn't."

"And I was glad to do it, boy, but James wanted to raise you hisself. It was only circumstances that stopped him."

"Circumstances _he_ created."

"No, 'twas circumstances _I _created!" Will retorted. Anger flashed in his eyes only for a moment before a deep sadness replaced it. "I was the one drove him away too soon and too angry. I cain't say as I know same as the Good Lord above us, but I don't 'spect a son of mine – raised right – would've growed up to be a gunfighter given half a chance."

"Don't do that, Grandpaw. Don't take the blame for him. It's not your fault; it's his."

"No, it ain't, boy. It's mine and I'm sorry. I never raised yer pa right … never took the time. How he is now has gotta be my fault at least by half, so if yer bound and determined to stay mad at him, I reckon it's only fair you turn most o' that anger on me."

Jeff tried to hold onto his fury, but he couldn't quite manage it in the face of his grandfather's sorrow. Shamefaced, he lowered his head while he grumbled, "You know I can't do that, Grandpaw. I can't be mad at you. You didn't beat me."

"No … but then again neither did yer pa." As Jeff looked up again, clearly poised to argue, Will cut him off before he could get started. "What he did, boy, was tan yer hide the way a real father licks his son from time to time iffen he cares anything at all about him. James only did to you what I've done myself a time or two, iffen you care to think back aways, ain't that so?"

Jeff squirmed in his chair, his cheeks aflame. "I reckon so, Grandpaw, but that was years ago and you never whipped me with a belt like Paw did."

"No, I never did … but then again you never scared me as badly as you scared yer pa last Saturday."

"He didn't have to be scared," Jeff complained, clearly insulted. "I can handle myself. It was you taught me how."

"Yes, but yer pa ain't seen all that I've taught you yet, has he, in the eight weeks since we finally found one another?"

Slowly, Jeff shook his head.

"'Sides, I ain't taking no credit fer what I seen last week," Will added with a frown. "I know I didn't teach you to drink yerself into a stupor so bad ya cain't hardly draw yer gun when it's called fer."

"Aw Grandpaw—"

"Aw nothing, boy! If you'da pulled a stunt like that with me just before we lit out together, why, there ain't no doubt in my mind I'da dropped yer britches myself – which is pro'bly why James took his belt to you almost as soon as we got you home. He saw you was puttin' yerself in fool danger barely two months after he's getting' to know ya agin and he just plain got mad."

Jeff scowled at his hands, though not quite as fiercely as he had been before. "I still say he shouldn'ta been."

"And maybe yer right," Will conceded, "but James _was_ mad and 'cuz o' that, he reacted on instinct like any pa would once he got his misbehavin' son to home. In a way, James is just makin' up fer lost time, boy. He didn't mean to humiliate ya. He was just plain worried on accounta how much he loves ya. I was worried too."

Jeff digested that for awhile, unable to look his grandfather in the face. Eventually, he sighed, his gaze still focused on the wooden tabletop before him.

"I'm sorry, Grandpaw. I never meant to worry you."

"I know that, boy. I forgive ya."

"You think I should forgive Pa too, don't you."

Will reached out and squeezed his hand. "Don't matter what I think, boy. It's what you can live with that's really worth considerin', ain't it?"

"Yessir … I guess so." Jeff slid his hand out from his grandfather's and stood up. "I'll finish cleaning up later, Grandpaw. Right now, I'd best go meet the stage and see who's on it today."

The stage didn't come in for three hours yet – a fact which they both knew – but Will didn't contradict him.

"All right, son," he said. "You go on now and don't fret about the dishes. I'll clean up fer you this once."

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Across town in the livery some hours later, Jeff saddled up quickly. He'd gone to church after leaving his grandfather, not really to pray, but just to sit in a peaceful place, where he wouldn't be bothered, so he could think.

Now his thinking was done.

He needed to find his pa and talk to him, but everywhere he'd looked in town so far had not revealed the man's whereabouts. It was lunch time so Jim ought to be home or at Becky's restaurant, but Jeff had looked in both those places plus a lot more without success, and deep down, the urge to panic was building. Twenty or not, it gave him a real uneasy feeling not to find his father, almost like he'd gone back in time to when he and his grandpaw had been on the trail for two straight years, travelling from town to town in search of the elusive Jim Sonnett.

Where was he? His pa wouldn't take off again and leave him behind like he'd done before, just because his son was shunning him?

Jeff desperately hoped not.

He mounted his horse in one smooth jump then kicked the poor creature into high gear, galloping north outside of town since that was the direction he'd had to travel to find Jim the first time. If his pa was moving on, he might naturally head that way again, and as Jeff hurried to close the gap, he scanned the horizon frantically, completely forgetting the training he'd received from Will about checking the ground every now and then for tracks.

Luckily, he didn't need to look for tracks.

Six miles out and slightly west of the Sumner farm, Jeff spotted ahead a dark chestnut Morgan grazing in the shade of a poplar tree. A lone man in black was standing a few yards away at the base of a scraggly hillside. The man didn't seem to be doing anything and it could have been anyone from this distance, but Jeff knew it wasn't just anyone. He knew it was his father.

He sighed in relief then closed the gap between them at a walk, if for no other reason than because his own Quarter horse needed to cool down. A part of him, though, did it to give himself time to figure out what to say. Jim looked exiled out here alone near this abandoned farm, and if indeed he had outlawed himself to this place to be at peace since there was nothing but tension lately at home, well, Jeff knew there was only one Sonnett responsible for that state of affairs, and it was him.

Unconsciously knotting the reins as he reached his destination, he waited until he was within talking range then trained his eyes on his father, whose eyes were similarly trained on him. He pulled his horse to a stop and took a deep breath, dipping his head slightly in hello.

"Paw."

Jim nodded back. "Son."

"Paw … can we talk?"

Jim looked up at him silently for a beat. "If you came here looking for an apology, Jeff, you're not going to get one. I'm not sorry I punished you."

"Well, I am," Jeff admitted. He shifted slightly in the saddle, uncomfortably aware that he was blushing and that his backside was tingling. "But I understand now why you did it … and I … well, I forgive you."

"Good because I'll do it again if you give me cause."

Jeff hadn't reckoned on that. His blue eyes shot open wide, the color in his cheekbones now perfectly scarlet. "Paw, you can't!"

"Get down off your horse, son."

"Ain't no way you're gonna lick me again, Paw! I ain't not gonna let y—"

"Obey me, Jeff. I said step down here."

The moment a scowling Jeff obeyed with both his fists clenched in readiness to fight, Jim bridged the physical gap between them then laid a strong hand on his son's shoulder.

"After the life I've led," he began without preamble. "I'm not gonna lose you, boy; not now after twenty years of missing you day in and day out, wondering how you were and what you were up to."

"But you're not gonna lose me," Jeff groused, his stance still belligerent. "I swear it, Paw, and even if you were—"

"Don't say that, Jeff, because I'd better not. I catch you risking your life that way again and Saturday night's gonna repeat itself. The only thing that'll change is I'll be using my hand instead of my belt like your grandpa told me he used on you growing up."

Without warning, Jim forced Jeff to the side to demonstrate with three burning swats to his behind, and then he turned the youth back around. Jeff opened his mouth to vent his outrage but he didn't get a chance. As soon they were eye to eye again, Jim pulled him into a hug and held on, wrapping him in an embrace so snug, it was all Jeff could do to regain his breath.

Shocked at what was happening, Jeff froze. He wanted to protest, to pull away and yell that he wasn't some little kid to be spanked then cuddled like this on a whim, but for some strange reason, his vocal chords wouldn't work.

Trapped against his father's chest with Jim's strong hands pressing his frame closer, Jeff could feel more than simple affection radiating from his pa. He felt fear, and desperation, and security, and also the deepest kind of need. The only person from whom Jeff had felt such strength of emotion before was his grandfather … and more than once it had been on the heels of a long and painful but well-deserved licking.

"I love you, boy," James said suddenly, his tone gruffer than usual. "More than myself or your grandpa or even your ma and mine. Don't you ever forget that, you hear?"

Still pinned in place, Jeff's eyes began to burn.

_Growing up, how many times had he craved a pa of his own to hug him like other boys had?_

_How many nights had he spent in bed wondering where his pa was and longing with all his heart for the man to come home?_

Jeff knew he couldn't count that high. He also knew something else. All those years ago, the few times his grandpa had punished him over his knee, there wasn't a single occasion when Jeff hadn't wished it was his pa doing the deed instead, if it had to be done at all, which meant he didn't have a right to complain now that his wish had come true. At long last, God had given him exactly what he'd been asking for … hadn't he?

It took a minute but gradually, Jeff reckoned so. He blinked to clear the salt water pooling in his eyes then lifted his arms as much as he was able to in order to return his father's embrace. He cleared his throat and sniffled while he held on just as tightly as he could, no longer much minding the warm sting that lingered in the seat of his britches.

"I love you too, Paw, and I'll try not to scare you again. I-I don't want to lose you either..."


End file.
